I Dare You
by adangeli
Summary: "So for forty eight hours you want me to step outside my comfort zone?" 06.10.13 - PLEASE NOTE: ABANDONED INCOMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: This was another challenge from **__**Kerrison**__**, though it's hard to sum it up in a line so just believe me that it was. It's a short little ditty – just four chapters. I asked her if it was supposed to be smutty and she said the part she charged me with wasn't. But, let's all remember who's writing it. It earns its rating in Chapter 4.**_

_**No, I'm not abandoning Forty Weeks, it's just nice to have a little something going on the side from time to time. :o)**_

**_~Amara D'Angeli_**

* * *

He had the hard-to-fight urge to bang his head against the steering wheel. "Bones, it's a school play. There's nothing anthropological about it. My kid's a bumble bee."

"I'm just saying, a child's first public appearance has far reaching cultural development markers that are anthro—"

"If you say 'anthropologically significant' one more time I'm leaving you at the next traffic light," he cut her off. "Forty eight, hours Bones."

She looked over at him in surprise. "'Forty eight hours' what?"

"I want forty eight hours of you just experiencing life without analyzing it." He looked at the clock on his dashboard. "It's six-oh-eight. From this moment until six-oh-eight Sunday night I don't want to hear anything about anthropology, or cultures, or biology, or chemistry, or any other scientific label you try to put on things."

"But I _am_ an anthropologist, Booth. It's what I do."

"Yes. It's what you _do_," he stressed. "Not who you _are_. I know there's more to you than textbooks and ten years of college."

"So for forty eight hours you want me to step outside my comfort zone?"

He nodded. "Yep. Starting now. Though Parker's school play tonight and through a full weekend of living like the rest of us do. No Jeffersonian. No skeletons. No writing. No work."

"You say that as if you believe it will be difficult for me."

He snorted. "Of course it's going to be difficult. Do you think I'd make it easy? You're spending the weekend with me. All the normal living stuff I'd do? You're doing too. And I've got plans with Parker tomorrow."

"It's true he invited me to the play tonight, but are you sure he'd want me encroaching on his time with you tomorrow?" She hedged.

"Are you kidding me? He'd be thrilled. Football in the park, Bones. I _dare_ you not get anthropological surrounded by all the people out there."

"You _dare_ me?" She grinned at him. "And what do I get if I succeed."

He thought about that. He wanted to be fair. "Forty eight hours of your own," he countered.

"You mean forty eight hours when I can take you out of _your_ comfort zone."

"Sure." He looked over at her and got a little worried. "They call those grins 'shit-eating' for a reason. What are you cooking up?"

"Considering you think it's going to be difficult for me to succeed, why are you worried?"

"I'm always worried when it comes to you and plotting."

"You've given me sufficient incentive to succeed," she said matter-of-factly. "If I were you, I would be worried."

"That sounded awfully science-y, Bones," he taunted as he parked the SUV next to Rebecca's sedan in front of Parker's school.

"I can't alter the way I speak just to please you," she intoned in a way that made his pants tighten uncomfortably.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," he muttered and got out of the vehicle. He waited for her at the front of the truck while she smoothed lipstick over her lips and a brush through her hair. By the time she'd joined him he'd managed to get the exact sound of her saying the phrase 'just to please you' out of his head. Which was good because he didn't want to feel like an ass walking into an elementary school cafeteria.

"So what are we doing this weekend if I can't work," she asked as his hand fell to the small of her back.

"After the play tonight we're going to the diner with Parker, Rebecca and Brent. Tomorrow, pancake breakfast at my place. Followed by football and a picnic lunch in the park with Parker." He stopped and held the door open for her and pointed out Brent and Rebecca seated in the third row. "Tomorrow afternoon I'm taking him back to Rebecca's so it'll just be you and me Saturday afternoon."

"And Saturday night," she asked as she stepped carefully around an elderly couple seated at the end of the row they were to sit in.

"Well, we'll just have to see, won't we?" He grinned and grasped her hips lightly so he could pass behind her to take the seat between her and Rebecca. They all exchanged pleasantries and he began to think better of his seating choice when both Rebecca and Brennan had leaned forward to speak around him.

He watched her while she talked to Rebecca. He sometimes forgot how friendly she could be. He spent so much time deciphering squint-speak and correcting her social-ineptitudes that he forgot, occasionally, to take pleasure in the kindness of her.

And yes, it started out as a dare but he was really beginning to look forward to the next forty-eight hours.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Note: As it happens this story will now likely be 6 chapters…two chapters for each Booth's and Brennan's forty-eight hours. I was going to leave them long chapters but Kerrison made me see that splitting it up wasn't necessarily a bad thing. She's a wonderful, wonderful Beta and friend.**_

_**Please don't worry about Forty Weeks. It's still happening. I'm hoping to make Week 17 a reality this holiday weekend. (But don't hold me to it…)**_

_**As for this, well, I hope you enjoy it. Perhaps I'll get the second half of Booth's weekend done this holiday weekend, too.**_

_**Happy Thanksgiving all my American friends!**_

_**~Amara**_

* * *

"I don't understand," she said as she leaned towards him. Her next words were spoken quietly, directly into his ear and he bit back a groan as her warm breath caressed the sensitive flesh. "Why is that child spinning in a circle? I thought he was supposed to be a tree."

"He's eight, Bones," he chuckled back. "He's probably just bored."

On his other side Rebecca was chuckling and casting glances in his and Brennan's direction. Apparently he and Bones hadn't been speaking as quietly as they'd thought.

He glanced at her over and over as the play continued. She laughed in the right spots and applauded with the rest of the crowd at act breaks. She really seemed…relaxed. Her normally inquisitive attitude had been replaced by something…warm. Was it the dare? Was she making a conscious effort? Or, had he never realized how well she could adapt to situations when she wanted to?

After the play Brennan hugged Parker after the other adults had and congratulated him on a fantastic performance. Parker rolled his eyes and told her he'd messed up three of his lines. She'd told Parker she didn't even notice and, Booth smiled, damned if his kid didn't _beam_ at her.

Booth held the door open for their party as they all made their way out to the parking lot. "Parks," Booth said to his son as the boy followed him and Brennan to the SUV, "why don't you ride with your mom and Brent to the diner? Bones and I have to make a stop first."

She looked over at him, "We do?"

"Yep," he said without further elaboration and turned his son by black and yellow costumed shoulders towards his mother.

"Where are we going?" she asked him as he held her car door open.

He waited until he joined her inside the cab to answer. "Your place."

"What? Why? Can't we just go to the diner and you can take me home afterwards?"

"No," he said simply.

"Why not?"

"I told you, you're spending the weekend with me. Forty eight hours. How will I know you haven't cheated if I let you out of my sight?"

"Honestly, Booth, why would I cheat? Not to mention you have Parker tonight and my bed would be much more comfortable than your couch."

"Since when have you ever slept on the couch? _I_," he pointed a strong thumb at his chest, "am a gentleman."

"Since when," she countered, "have I ever stayed when Parker was there?"

"Good point." He shrugged as he turned the car towards her apartment and in the opposite direction of the diner. "You can sleep in Parker's room and he can sleep with me." He was careful to modulate his tone as his traitorous libido had threatened to modify his solution to one that included her in his bed rather than his son's. What was wrong with him? He usually had much more control over his thoughts.

"Does that mean, then, when it's my forty eight hours you'll have to stay with me?"

He looked at her again and she appeared to be tapping into her evil streak. God, what did she have in mind for taking him out of _his_ comfort zone? But, fair was fair... "I guess so."

They did make a stop at her apartment and he was once again surprised by how quickly she could pack for a weekend away. Their side trip, including her packing, only delayed their arrival at the diner by fifteen minutes.

Despite the short delay though, by the time they were seated Parker was already halfway through a cheeseburger and milkshake. "Did you like the play, Bones?" he asked before the waitress could even make her way over to the table.

"Very much," she replied. "Thank you for the invitation." She then directed her attention to Rebecca. "And thank _you_," she said quietly.

"Of course, Dr. Brennan," Rebecca said warmly. "We're glad you could make it."

"Where did you have to go?" Parker asked.

Brennan glanced over at Booth and he knew she was concerned about telling Parker, in front of Rebecca, exactly where they'd gone. He, however, wasn't worried at all. "Bones is staying with us tonight, Buddy. We stopped so she could pack her bag."

Across the table Rebecca's eyebrows shot up and a grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Really?" She took a quick sip of her iced tea and Booth knew it was her way of checking laughter.

The previous week he and Rebecca had a long conversation concerning Brennan and her presence at family functions. Rebecca had chastised him for not making more attempts to include her if what he really wanted was her participation. 'But she's not interested,' he'd told his ex. To which she'd replied, 'Of course she is, Seeley, don't be an idiot.'

He'd never intended to make the dare he'd made earlier in the evening. As it was he'd just sort of...snapped. His always analytical Bones. Sometimes it just got to him. He knew she had the capacity to let loose and have fun, she just needed the freedom and safe haven to let it happen. A part of her, he was sure, was still the scared little girl who was afraid people were going to laugh at her.

Brennan, however, took Rebecca's intrigue as disapproval. "Unless, of course, that's not all right."

"Of course not," Rebecca waved her off. "Good luck. Those two can be quite a handful."

"So you're really staying with us tonight?" Parker interjected as soon as the adults quieted down.

She nodded, "I am. And I understand we'll be playing football in the park tomorrow."

His eyes widened. "You play football?"

"Well," she considered seriously, "no. But I'm sure I could learn."

"Do you _like_ football," he asked incredulously.

"Well," she started, "It's a cultur—"

"Ah, ah, ah," Booth corrected. "None of that. It's football, Bones. End of story."

Across the table Rebecca quirked and eyebrow and exchanged a glance with Brent who grinned at her. It seemed as if they were beginning to get the picture.

Brennan ducked her head coquettishly. And his pants tightened again. Damn it! Since when was Bones ever coquettish? He had a feeling he was in for an interesting couple of days.

~*~

Later that night he watched as Parker taught Bones how to play Battleship. Twice she'd started to say something about the anthropological significance of the game or how it was developmentally significant for children to learn the art of warfare and each time he'd cut her off before she'd gone far enough to lose the dare.

Booth found it odd that he actively tried to help her _win _the bet when, for all intents and purposes, he should be hoping she'd lose. But a part of him wanted to keep it going, keep her there with him. And more importantly, he wanted to find out what she had up her sleeve for _her_ forty-eight hours.

That night he'd hovered in Parker's bedroom doorway as long as he could. Did she need another blanket? Another pillow? Would the hall light bother her? Was she sure she didn't need another blanket?

Finally he'd crawled into his bed next to his son and spent the better portion of the night staring at his ceiling. Why had he dared her to relax and loosen up? As it turned out, she was much better able to relax than he'd ever given her credit for. What on earth was he in for over the course of the weekend?

~*~

He woke at six thirty Saturday morning when his son had given him a well placed kick to the shin followed by a flailing fist to the jaw. He heard uncharacteristic activity from the direction of the living room and decided if Bones was up he'd be much happier up as well. He pulled on an old pair of FBI sweatpants over his boxers and went to investigate.

He found her sitting cross-legged on the couch holding the newspaper and a cup of coffee. She looked like she belonged there. She also looked, he noted with satisfaction, exceptionally relaxed. She was dressed in cut off jean shorts and what looked like it had probably been a man's dress shirt but had been living contentedly as part of her wardrobe for a while. Her hair was loose and messy around her shoulders and she looked impossibly delicious.

He leaned against the wall where the hallway started to become the living room. "I can honestly say I've never seen you look that casual."

When she looked up at him he became overly aware he was standing there bare-chested. "You told me I wasn't allowed to be analytical this weekend. Therefore, I chose not to overanalyze my wardrobe. I'll change before we go to the park."

"Do you have to?" He leered at her for a half a second before he thought better of it and pushed himself up off the wall to meander toward the kitchen. He looked back over his shoulder at her from his place in front of the coffee pot. She looked slightly shocked and appeared to be blushing, though it was hard to tell in the dim early morning light seeping through the blinds and coming from the small lamp she'd lit next to the couch. . "How did you sleep?"

"Fine, thank you. And you?"

"Aside from being repeatedly kicked and punched by a kid I'm now convinced has a future as an ultimate fighter, pretty well." She chuckled low in her throat and he decided he'd stand in the kitchen a little longer. Sweat pants did little to protect their wearer's modesty.

"I'm feeling fairly confident about succeeding within the parameters of the dare today, Booth. And if I do, starting at six oh eight tomorrow evening _you _are going to be in trouble."

He was constantly shocked when people told him Brennan didn't have a sense of humor. She was chock full of humor. She just rarely joked the way normal people did. But he had to say, her taunting that morning was so spot on even the most skeptical of observers would have gotten it. "Is that so?"

She nodded definitively. "I believe so."

"Gonna tell me what I'm getting myself into?"

"No, I don't think so." And she really appeared to be thinking about it. He grinned.

"Why are you up so early?"

"I always get up between five thirty and six. You know that," she pointed out.

Yeah, he knew that. For all the wrong damn reasons, though. "But you're supposed to be relaxing and enjoying life this weekend. That includes sleeping in."

"You're up," she pointed out.

"Ultimate fighter in my bed, Bones," he returned. Then they shared a grin. He liked her first thing in the morning before she'd had a chance to raise her defenses. Maybe it was before the first people of the day were needling her for answers or posing impossible questions or telling her she talked funny or pointing out she had no sense of humor. A non-defensive Bones, he decided, was a real pleasure.

She shifted on the couch and her shirttails parted to reveal the length, or lack thereof, of her shorts. At that rate he was never getting out of the kitchen. He started to pull out the bowls and ingredients for a pancake breakfast.

Just as bacon began to sizzle in the frying pan Parker emerged from Booth's bedroom with sleepy eyes and a bed head. Booth watched in amusement as his son climbed up onto the couch next to Bones, tuned the television to cartoons and dropped his head into her lap.

"Morning, Bub," Booth called from the kitchen.

"Morning," his sleepy boy mumbled.

"Breakfast in ten. Want to get dressed?" He glanced back into the living room and saw Brennan setting her coffee and the newspaper aside then beginning to run her hands absently through Parker's hair. He smiled as Parker snuggled deeper into her. "Parker?"

"Yeah, Dad, in a minute."

Booth smirked. At least his son knew what to do when there was a pretty lady available to stroke your hair.

When breakfast was ready Parker still hadn't gotten up to get dressed having chosen, instead, to remain curled into Bones who appeared to be as caught up in the television program as Parker was. Having had the same option, Booth was pretty sure he'd have made the same choice.

Booth was proud of Brennan. He knew she was stepping far outside her comfort zone sitting on his couch on a Saturday morning watching cartoons rather than getting ready to start her day piecing together skeletons that were older than them both combined and doubled. He'd never have imagined, though, how difficult it would be to include her in familial time and keep his thoughts and emotions on the subject tightly under wraps. He had to admit he liked seeing her there, next to his son, with her hair both literally and figuratively down. She looked sexily disheveled and seemed to not be at all self-conscious about it.

As he heaped food onto plates he thought more about what she might have in mind for him. He was worried, in a way. She had a habit of going out of her way to make him uncomfortable – not that she was ever malicious about it. But he'd just given her carte blanche to really give him hell. Part of him was excited. He knew Brennan considered very little to be outside Booth's comfort zone. And he well knew which subject she thought would get the biggest rise out of him. Oh, he thought, if she _only knew_. Just the thought made him chuckle and she looked over at him.

"Breakfast is ready," he said and set plates on the high table in the kitchen.

Brennan urged Parker up and off her lap and pushed him, gently, in the direction of the kitchen. Then, she stood up and Booth was lost. When standing, the long tails of her shirt covered her jean shorts and she looked like she was standing there in just a shirt that could have easily once been his. Bare footed and bed-headed, herself, he found himself checking the urge to kiss her as she walked by him to the coffee pot for a refill. When she was in his home, dressed the way she was, interacting with his kid the way she was, it was hard to remember she was his partner, his friend, _not_ his lover.

Once they were all seated and Parker had said grace, they all tucked into breakfast. "So you're going to teach me to play football today?" Brennan directed her question at Parker but had shot a teasing smile at Booth.

"Yep!" the younger Booth exclaimed around a mouthful of syrupy pancake. "But Dad'll have to show you how to throw. I'm still not that good at throwing."

"That's all right. I'm sure it's just the ratio of the circumference of the ball to the size of your hand."

Booth laughed when his son said, "I don't know what that means." He was so used to hearing that exact phrase come out of his partner's mouth that hearing the same from his son was near hilarity.

"She means the ball is bigger than your hand, Park. You'll grow into it."

"Oh," the boy shrugged. "But I can run good, and Dad lets me tackle him."

Brennan looked up at Booth in shock, "You play _tackle_ football with your _son_?"

"Well," Booth shrugged the same way Parker had a moment before, "sure. Why not?"

"He could be _injured_."

"Geez, Bones," Booth wheedled, "it's not like I hit him full-force or anything. It's called rough-housing for a reason. Besides, he's a _boy_." Booth winked at Parker. "You like it, right?"

"Oh yeah," Parker nodded enthusiastically. "It's really fun." Parker ate a bite of eggs then looked up at his dad sharply. "Wait a minute. Bones is a _girl_. Does that mean we can't tackle her?"

Booth waggled his eyebrows at Brennan. "Nope. It means we _have_ to tackle her."

Brennan smiled and ducked her head. Booth was sure that time she was blushing. He'd bet money, if he could, that she was thinking at least some of the same things he was thinking. Hmm, he thought, perhaps he was closer than he thought...

~*~

"Okay," Parker explained, "those trees are our end-zone and the benches over there are Dad's. We have to try to run the ball past those trees and if we do we get a touchdown."

"And we're to keep your father from passing the benches," she surmised.

"Yep. And if you want to stop him, you have to tackle him. And he's _fast_."

"I'm sure he is," she said with gravity.

Booth chuckled and winked at her – amazed when it brought high color to her cheeks. _That's_ what was making her blush? His winking at her? Good to know. "All right." Booth clapped his hands. "First team to twenty-four wins."

"Twenty-four?" Brennan asked, aghast.

"You get six points for every touchdown," Parker explained.

"Oh, well, all right then." She sized Booth up. "I'm not sure this is fair, Booth. Two against one?"

"I think I'll be okay, Bones," he rolled his eyes. He was playing against a kid and a _girl_. Besides, he was going to let Parker win anyway, whether or not she was there. "Come on, let's play."

"Well, who get's to go first?"

"You guys."

"And how did you decide?"

He rolled his eyes again but Parker beat him to the punch. "I always get to go first."

"But wait," she said. "I don't know how to throw yet."

Parker looked up at Booth. "Dad?"

Booth huffed good-naturedly. "Okay, but I'm giving up my advantage here."

"Somehow," Bones smirked, "I don't think that's true."

He grinned at her and handed her the football. "Parker, go stand over by that trash can," Booth pointed to a trash bin about fifteen feet away. "You can catch."

He watched as his son scampered off and then turned to Brennan. "Now, what you do, see, is hold the ball so your fingers line up along the laces and your thumb is on the bottom." He demonstrated. "Then, you just throw." He raised his arm and threw the ball in a perfect spiral to his son. Parker caught the ball and threw it back with only a slight wobble. "Here," he said handing her the ball. "You try."

He watched as she bit her bottom lip and lined her fingers up just as he'd shown her. She threw the ball but it wobbled back and forth and Parker had to lunge forward to catch it.

"Not bad, for your first try." He called out to Parker, "Throw it back, Son, we'll let her try again."

When he had the ball back in hand he gave it to her and moved to stand behind her. He nudged a foot in between hers and urged them apart. "Relax your stance a little...that's right. Now," he raised her hand up until it was just next to her ear and let her align her grip. "Spread your fingers out some," he moved them into the proper position, "and relax your thumb – it's there for balance and grip, you don't have to choke up on the ball." She relaxed her body a little and then her shoulders were leaning lightly against his chest. He forgot – for a moment, with the slight contact – what he was doing.

"Booth?" Her voice was plainly curious. He knew he was dealing with that particular confusion alone.

He shook his cloudy head. "Right. So now, when you throw you want to follow through. When you release the ball, your hand is pointing exactly where you wanted the ball to go." He covered her hand on the ball with his own and moved her arm forward in slow motion to show her the exact point when she'd want to release. With his hand still over hers he drew her arm back until she was coiled to throw. "Now, you try." He dropped his hands to her hips and turned her, just slightly, so she was just off square with Parker.

She threw again and the ball made it to Parker but it still had a lot of wobble. "How do I keep it from bobbling back and forth like that?"

Parker threw the ball back and she caught it. "Nice catch," he said softly.

"Thank you."

"What you want to do is push your palm into the ball a little as you throw it." He demonstrated from his place behind her and cursed himself when his hips collided with her backside. _That_ was not helping.

"Okay," she said a little breathlessly.

Was their proximity a little too much for her to handle as well? They stood close together all the time. "Give it another try."

That time, when she threw the ball it both made it to Parker and had significantly less wobble. She laughed with delight.

"That's better!" She turned around to face him and they were just inches apart.

Parker threw the ball back and Booth wrapped a quick arm around her waist and pulled her around him and into his side. The ball collided with his chest and he brought a quick hand up to catch it. "Easy there, Parks!" he called. "You almost got her in the head.

"Sorry, Bones!" the boy called out.

Booth realized then that she was tucked up against him, her breasts pressed against his rib cage, and he released her quickly. "Think you've got it now?" His voice was low and rough. What the hell?

"Yes," she nodded solemnly and he wondered if they were even talking about football at all. Their eyes were locked together for the span of five quick heartbeats then she stepped away from. "I think you're going to lose," a slow smile spread across her face.

"Oh, you think so, huh?"

She nodded and grinned then grabbed the ball from him.

"All right, Super-Squint. Time to put your money where your mouth is." And just like that the spell was broken.

Brennan lobbed the ball to Parker who waved her over. The two spoke quietly for a moment then high-fived. Normally football with Parker included pretending to chase the boy and narrowly missing him just at the end zone. Then, on his return, pretending to be old and out of shape or tripping over an exceptionally long blade of grass to let the kid catch him.

But this was football with _Bones_. He couldn't help but stare at her. She wore old faded jeans that fit her perfectly with a burnt orange sweater in deference to the crisp autumn air. He studied the curve of her breasts and flare of her hips just underneath the fabric. Then, before he knew it, both Parker and Bones had shot past him.

He spun on his heels and saw that Parker had the ball so he started to lope after him. But then, his son stopped and made a perfect pass to Bones. "Nice throw, Parks!" Booth shouted as he shot past Parker and ran headlong into Bones. She shrieked as he plowed into her but rather than bashing her to the ground he'd hit her with one arm behind her shoulders and the other behind her knees and scooped her clean up off the ground. As their momentum swung them around he looked down at her. He eyes were squeezed shut and her mouth was open with laughter.

While she was distracted he stooped down and dropped her the last twelve inches. Upon impact she looked up at him with a shocked expression. He winked at her, plucked the ball up off her stomach and took off for the other end of the field.

He'd made it halfway down the field and he heard Parker shouting, "Get him, Bones! Get him!" In the next moment she'd jumped on his back. He felt both their forward momentums threatening to topple him so he thrust the ball out to the side and dropped it. Her arms were tight around his neck and her knees were hugging his hips and in the next moment he went down.

They tumbled over and over until suddenly she was lying against the grass and he was lying above her. Her eyes were wide with surprise but she was laughing. And then, when their eyes were locked and her laughter had changed into a nervous chuckle, Parker piled on top of them and her laugher sparked back up. Booth twisted his upper body around to grab at his son but that particular maneuver pressed his hips into Brennan's. And suddenly, in the interest of self preservation, he was rolling off of her and taking his son with him.

She laid there laughing, her head turned towards them and a hand on her belly and he realized she'd never looked more beautiful. She sat up slightly, propped up on her elbow, and there were bits of crushed up Sycamore leaves clinging to her hair.

Parker leapt off his dad then and onto Bones. She let out another of those happy shrieks he was starting to fall crazy in love with. While his partner and his son rolled around on the ground, fighting for the upper-hand, Booth pulled out his cell phone and snapped a picture. He looked at the image. Both of them were smiling and were covered in bits of leaves and grass. Brennan's eyes sparkled as they were locked on Parker's. Then, he looked up from the camera and Bones and Parker had their arms around each other and were sharing a delighted hug.

He had to clear his throat for the emotion that threatened to lodge there. "All right, you two, it's zero-zero. We've got a game to play!"

~*~

After an hour of rough and tumble football, Parker and Bones beat Booth twenty-four to six.

"I believe you let us win," Brennan said as she sat down on their picnic blanket and began pulling Tupperware containers out of their basket.

"You kidding, Bones? You two were champs." He leaned over and nudged her with his elbow. Their eyes met and she smiled back at him.

Then he was leaning. Leaning. He was just a breath and a half away from her lips.

"Dad! Dad! Look, it's a Great Dane!"

Booth pulled back from his partner to look over at his son who was running back from the drinking fountain and pointing at a leashed dog about twenty yards away. Booth chuckled uncomfortably. Brennan had to have known he was about to kiss her. "He really wants a dog."

"I see," she nodded. "Booth…I—" she started.

"What did you pack, Dad?" Parker plopped down on blanket next to Bones.

Booth and Brennan exchanged a look while Parker rummaged through the containers. Booth was burning with curiosity. What had she been about to say?


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's Note: Okay, here it is. Proof that I'm still alive and writing. I'll admit I've had a rough time of it lately. There was some writer's block on Forty Weeks that started just before Thanksgiving and then a more far-reaching writer's block that had an effect on this story as well immediately following the holiday. Then, it was the end of the semester and I had to finish a portfolio for my writing class. You know, kids, stay in college when you're young and that's the only thing you have to focus on. Because once you get out into the world and there's work and all sorts of other adult responsibilities to worry about, school gets a lot harder!**_

_**Much love to Kerrison who was both patient and very quick with the beta on this chapter.**_

_**Also, lots of thanks to all the reviewers. I've been just awful about responding. And for everyone who's been asking about Forty Weeks, rest assured I'm working on Week 17 right now.**_

_**~A.**_

* * *

"I'm _so_ positive you can't just sit and enjoy a movie that I'm willing to put a side bet on it."

"You shouldn't be betting," Bones pointed out.

They were standing in the concessions line at the movie theater. He'd bought tickets to a crime thriller. There was _absolutely no way_ she'd be able to make it through the movie without becoming overly analytical. "Okay, so no side bet, but I'm still sure you're not going to be able to do this. Say goodbye to your forty-eight hours, Bones."

"I believe you're hedging your end of the dare by putting me in a situation you _know_ will cause me to be analytical. Movies are fictionalizations of real life events. Not to mention this particular movie will no doubt misrepresent the work we _both_ do."

"It's a movie. Let it go. Relax. Enjoy. Eat some popcorn." He ushered her up to the counter. The pimply faced boy behind the register locked his eyes on her cleavage and Booth eventually snapped his fingers right in front of his face to get his attention. "Yo, kid? A little service, please?" Booth smirked as the kid flushed and took the order from Brennan. … but really, could Booth blame him? She was a well put together woman. He'd look at her cleavage, too. Had, in fact.

Once their hands were full of snacks they made their way to the theater. He followed her up the steps and she made to move into a row about halfway up. "Oh, no. It's the movies, Bones. Back row."

"But Booth, if we sit here we're at both the perfect height and distance for optimum viewing. As we both have average eye sight—"

"Overanalyzing." He grinned at her in the low lights. "Back row."

She huffed. "Fine." But she did continue to climb the stairs.

He found himself lingering three steps behind her and enjoying the view as her hips shifted her up the stairs. This was really getting ridiculous. It was one thing to find Brennan attractive. He always had. It was another thing to lust after her from time to time. He did. But this constant awareness of her, the constant feeling of being _drawn_ to her? Well, that was fairly new.

As she climbed she tossed a look or two over her shoulder. She kept giving him curious glances. What was that all about? He thought back over the exchange. He'd stopped her from losing again. Was she suspicious about that? He should want her to lose, right? Yes, he should want her to lose so he wouldn't have to endure forty eight hours outside his own comfort zone.

She started to choose seats in the center of the row but turned to him before she sat. "Or would you prefer seats in the corner?"

She thought his choice of seats was stupid, he knew, but just because she didn't 'get' the whole moving going experience didn't mean she didn't know a cliché or two she could tease him about.

Well, two could play at that game as far as he was concerned. He directed her towards seats in the corner with a smirk. "You gonna make out with me if we sit in the corner?"

She sat down in the seat nearest the wall and held the popcorn while he juggled three boxes of candy and a soda. "I should be asking you that question," she muttered quietly.

Booth was sure he wasn't supposed to have heard her; she'd spoken so low. But he _had_ heard her. He sighed and slumped into his seat. "What do you mean?"

"I just…" she fiddled with the rolled edge of the popcorn tub. "Today in the park it seemed as if you were going to kiss me."

"And what if I had?" He grinned at her, "You're not allowed to analyze it."

"But," she asked softly, "were you?"

He chose to neither confirm nor deny and instead redirected. "So is this the part where you tell me what you were about to say earlier today?"

She answered him quietly, "I wanted you to know I wasn't going to read anything into it. It was a fun day and we…Well, we're friends but we don't usually do that sort of thing together."

"What," he asked in a strangled tone, "kiss?"

"No!" She'd answered him more loudly than she intended, he was sure, because she looked around guiltily before continuing. "We don't normally spend the day with Parker. Or eat pancakes in your kitchen while you're in pajamas. We don't play tackle football. And it was confusing."

He'd expected her to be thinking about their day but he never thought she'd have ended up confused. She didn't really _do_ confused. "Confusing? Why?"

She looked straight ahead at the movie screen instead of looking at him and answered, "Because the people who do the sorts of things we did today are usually the sorts of people who kiss each other."

"Yeah," he sighed. "It did feel like a family day, didn't it?" He unwrapped his drinking straw and shoved the plastic tube through the stamped X in his soda-cup lid. "I never meant to make you uncomfortable this weekend, Bones. I just wanted you to relax a little. Let your hair down. I wanted to show you there was more to life than science."

She turned back towards him. "I know there is, Booth. But I have science in my life for a reason. Sometimes it's easier to analyze than it is to feel. But I have to admit that today has been fun and it hasn't been as difficult not to overanalyze situations as I thought it would be."

The lights dropped in the theater and the previews began to roll. He'd long since considered her over-analytical nature was compensating for a bruised heart.

He leaned over until their shoulders were brushing and said into her ear, "We can stop if you want."

When she whipped her head around to him they were nose to nose. "Stop?"

"The dare. We don't have to finish the weekend if you don't want to. And I won't hold you to the additional forty eight hours." His stomach clenched at the thought of a missed opportunity.

"I don't think we need to stop. It _has _been fun. Although," she prodded gently. "I have noticed that you keep preventing me from losing…" He looked over and she was wearing a teasing grin.

He shrugged. "I think part of you needs this weekend. A chance to be reminded there's more to life than facts and figures."

"Reminded? You believe there was a time when I didn't rely on facts and figures?"

"I think you've always known there was more to life than that. But to you, facts and figures are safe. Everything else is scary. I know that you feel that way but I don't understand it."

She regarded him carefully. "You can't understand why a world in which we kiss in the park is scary?"

She was giving him a strange sort of look…a _lingering_ sort of look that landed on his lips. His mouth went dry. "Okay. I can sort of understand it."

She nodded and turned back towards the screen, "I thought perhaps you might."

Twice during the movie she snorted indelicately when the character's dealings were less than professional and he chuckled in response. Once she leaned over and spoke directly into his ear. He couldn't focus on anything except his body and her proximity when she did things like that. He'd stopped her tirade on forensic procedures by putting slight pressure of the pads of his fingers just above her knee – she'd shivered and gasped when he touched her. Of course, after that, he spent the next fifteen minutes focused on controlling his libido and missed a crucial plot twist – while running though the Flyers 2010 lineup – that left him confused when the lights came back up.

"It wasn't a _bad_ movie," she said when she stood waiting for him to collect several empty candy boxes and a condensation-dripping paper soda cup.

"Actually," he said waving her ahead of him down the aisle, "it was a _good_ movie. You just would have had to suspend reality for a while to enjoy it."

She shook her head and looked back over her shoulder at him from her place two steps down. "I'm not very good at suspending reality."

"You don't say?"

They waded through the sea of people and let the tide wash them out of the theater, though the lobby and into the parking lot. "So, now what?" she asked when his hand dropped to the small of her back and guided her toward his SUV.

He checked his watch. It was past ten but he wasn't ready to call it a night yet. Then he remembered he wouldn't be calling it a night at all. She was going home with him. He pushed aside the pictures his brain provided at the thought of that phrase. "Well," he said, "we could head home." He actually shuddered with pleasure as he said the words and she looked over at him with worry. He smiled at her. "Or, we could go grab some dessert at the diner."

"Ugh," she moaned. "No more food. Please."

He chuckled. "Okay. Home it is."

When they got back to his apartment, she'd started painting a picture for him that until then had lived only in the deep recess of his mind. She walked in ahead of him when he'd unlocked the door and set her purse down on the table in the entry way. In the living room she'd kicked off her shoes right against the wall where a couple pairs of his shoes had landed. She'd said something about making tea, had asked him if he wanted a cup, and then set about comfortably in his kitchen.

He leaned in the doorway and watched her work. She knew where everything was. That wasn't surprising to him – not after five years. After the water was on to boil she unbuttoned the cuffs of her blouse and then started down the row of larger buttons that bisected her abdomen. When she was done she shrugged her shoulders and leaned back a bit until the fabric slid down her arms and into her hands. She was left standing there in dark blue tank top that was tucked into her jeans.

She turned from him and hung her blouse on the back of one of his kitchen chairs. He'd always known she'd had an attractive figure. He'd seen it in everything from evening gowns to coveralls. But there was something about her casual attire in his home that made her figure much, much more attractive. It made him go warm inside to see her so comfortable in his space.

He'd seen her self-conscious before. He'd seen her that way more times than he cared to remember, but in his home she was relaxed. It made him feel strong, in a way, knowing she felt she could trust him with that. She'd accused him before of being an alpha-male. But, if he was honest, her tone hadn't really been _accusatory_. If anything the idea _intrigued _her. She was a strong woman. She was sure and stalwart. But underneath the exterior she worked hard to affect he knew she was just a woman. And he wouldn't be at all surprised if he were to discover she preferred giving up a little of control when in a relationship. And he wondered if she'd ever been in a relationship with anyone she trusted enough to give up that control.

While he was lost in thought he'd drifted through his kitchen until he stood behind her. "Bones," he said softly and watched in fascination when she shuddered.

Her hands stilled on the bag of sugar she'd found in his cupboard and retrieved to refill his sugar bowl. "Yes, Booth?"

He reached up and ran the backs of his fingers across the crest of her shoulder, starting where the fabric of her shirt rested against her neck and stopping on her soft skin. "I _was_ going to kiss you in the park today."

She cleared her throat but didn't turn to face him. "Why are you telling me that now?"

He shrugged even though he knew she wouldn't see it. "I don't know. Maybe I thought you should know for sure."

"I think I did know," she said with a whisper.

He nudged her shoulder until she turned around to face him. When she realized how close he was standing she took a step back until the edge of the countertop pressed into her back. He dropped his eyes to her lips. They were parted in anticipation and little puffs of breath stirred the long layers of hair that teased at her mouth and chin.

"Booth?"

At her question he realized he hadn't said anything in response. He was having trouble responding, actually, and finally settled on, "That wasn't the first time," in a huskier tone than he'd intended.

Her eyes fell to his lips. "It wasn't the first time, what?"

He chucked. "It wasn't the first time I almost kissed you."

Her eyes snapped up to his and he could see a protective barrier slide into place. She laughed and turned back to the tea kettle that was hinting at whistling. "It's not like we haven't kissed before, Booth. It's not a big deal."

He shook his head. "No, it wasn't. But it was, too. And I can't help but think, if we kissed for real, it might be a big deal."

She stepped to the side and around him. "I don't think I want a cup of tea anymore. I'm just going to go to bed. I'll…" She chanced a look at him. "I'll see you in the morning."

He nodded and she fled. Why had he thought talking to her about the near-kiss would be a good idea? He stepped forward and banged his forehead against the cupboard she'd found the sugar in.

Thump, thump, thump, thump.

He found comfort in the rhythmic sound despite the dull ache that began to spread through his skull.

Later that night while he lay in bed he thought about that moment just before she'd opted for self preservation. He thought about the tingle on his lips just from her gaze. Then he remembered the feel of her mouth under his and her fingers curled into his lapels during a kiss that had happened almost a lifetime ago.

She was across the hall, sleeping in his son's bed. Though, if he knew her, and he did, she wasn't sleeping either. It was out there now. He wanted to kiss her and she knew it. But she'd run from it. Well, he had told her he was taking her out of her comfort zone. He looked at the clock. Just after midnight. In eighteen hours she was going to get the opportunity to shove him squarely outside _his_ comfort zone. He might play dumb on occasion but when it came to her he was practically a Mensa candidate. He had a feeling he knew what she was planning. And God help him, but he was actually looking forward to it.

~*~

Sunday morning he wandered out into the living room with his dress shoes hooked over the fingers of his right hand and a perfectly respectable blue silk tie dangling from the fingers of his left hand only to find her on his couch. She was dressed in a very pretty cream colored dress and was bent to the side fixing the straps on a pair of high heels. Her hair was in a French-twist and God help him, she was wearing pearls.

He realized he'd been asking God for quite a bit of help in the last eight hours. But she was wearing _pearls_. He couldn't explain it – and he knew if it got out in the locker room he'd be teased mercilessly, even as an adult – but there was something about a woman in pearls that made him…want to do things he really shouldn't be thinking of while he was getting ready to go to church.

He cleared his throat from his place at the outlet of the hallway. "Going somewhere?"

She looked up at him and smiled. His stomach flopped over in his belly. She had the sort of toothpaste-smile that always left him wondering how it would feel to run his tongue along the straight, smooth edge of her teeth. "It's Sunday. I thought we were going to church. And," she tilted her head toward him, "it looks as if I was right. Unless you're planning to go to the gym in that suit." He cocked his head at her and she continued, her hands wringing nervously in her lap. "In the past you said I couldn't go to church with you, but you said this weekend was all about taking me outside my comfort zone, and what better way to do that, right?"

She'd finally stopped to take a breath and he couldn't help but chuckle at her while he crossed the room to sit next to her on the couch. He slipped on his own shoes as he said, "It's okay, Bones. You can go if you want to. I wasn't going to _force_ you to though."

"Well," she said quietly, "a dare _is_ a dare…"

"So, uh, any particular reason you're looking like a fifties wet dream this morning?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth he colored tomato red and felt like melting into the couch. It was his own long standing rule that had him not talking about sex with Bones. However, he was anything but a prude, as his past girlfriends could attest, and he'd just talked to her like a woman he was _sleeping_ with.

But, either she didn't get it or she took it the wrong way and she lifted an uncharacteristically self-conscious hand toward her hair and asked, "I don't know exactly what that means, but I feel safe in assuming it has something to do with nocturnal emissions. Is there something wrong with the way I'm dressed? Is it inappropriate for church?"

He chuckled derisively. "No, Bones, there's nothing wrong with the way you're dressed. You look…great." He threaded his tie through his collar. "You're not going to try to get all 'anthropologically speaking' on me about church today are you?"

"I was under the impression that particular phrase would force me to lose our wager."

"It will. Just making sure. This is kind of big, you know? You going to church with me."

She nodded thoughtfully, "Yes. I know." She watched him start the knot of his tie. "My mother used to tie my father's tie every Sunday morning for church. He tied it every day of the week for himself but she'd tie it on Sunday mornings."

There was a wistful look on her face so he decided to take a chance that would cut him off at the knees if she refused him. "You want to tie my tie, Bones?" He gave her a little grin just in case she decided to let it fall as a joke between them.

She nodded. "Yes, I think I would." They both turned towards each other on the couch until her right knee brushed against his left and she raised her hands to the just-begun knot. She studied the start with a titled head for just a moment, "You were tying a half-Windsor?" Her minty breath wafted across his face and he nodded.

Her nimble fingers worked the fabric while her eyes cataloged her progress. While she was preoccupied he studied her face. "Why did you learn to knot ties?"

She gave a little half shrug. "When I was a girl I thought it was romantic. I asked my father to teach me and he did."

He wonders what she would have been like if she'd been allowed to finish growing up with romantic notions in her head. "And now?"

"And now," she said tightening the knot and letting her protective barrier slide back into place, "it's functional."

He sighed and reached up for her hands that were sliding down his tie. "There's nothing wrong with a little romance."

She shook of his hands and stood, as if suddenly uncomfortable with his proximity, then retreated to the kitchen. "Romance is a manufactured ideal designed to brainwash girls into wanting and needing things that are no longer constructs of our society."

He'd followed her into the kitchen. "You're analyzing."

"I'm honest," she snapped. She took a deep break, exhaled slowly, and pulled two coffee mugs from the cupboard. "Coffee?" She didn't wait for his response. She merely poured him a cup and handed it over.

"When did you stop believing in romance, Bones?" he asked quietly.

She sighed and turned to him. "Please, Booth, can we just go to church."

He studied her for a moment then nodded. He was desperate to know the answer to his question and he was certain the answer didn't have anything to do with her parents leaving. "Yeah, let's go."

He'd held the car door for her and she hadn't even tried to rebuke him. He turned the radio off because he knew she preferred it that way. He did everything he could think to do to get her to talk to him without _actually _starting a conversation. They were halfway to the church when she finally spoke again. "We were Presbyterian." He looked over at her. "We attended a beautiful old brick church with a pipe organ. At Christmas there were candlelight services with so many people you had to stand if you didn't get there early enough. And there was a woman who sang O Holy Night so incredibly beautifully that I'd cry. Russ would make fun of me, but I'd cry every year."

He wasn't quite sure what to say. "We won't be singing O Holy Night today."

She smiled. "I know. It's just the thing I remember most about church."

"We have candlelight midnight Mass on Christmas. Last year was the first year Parker stayed awake all the way through."

"I'm sure it's a beautiful service. I have…trouble…with organized religion and with the concept of God, but I do find most religious services to be quite beautiful."

Her small confessions were making it harder and harder for him to ignore the voice in his head that kept telling him he was in love with her. He was so completely gone over her it wasn't even funny.

During Mass she kneeled and bowed her head when the rest of the congregation did, and while he knew she wasn't the kind to pray he wondered if perhaps she'd suspended her disbelief for just that one day. And later on, when they sang Holy Holy Holy, she sang along without the aid of the hymnal. He'd looked over at her in shock and found she had tears in her eyes. He'd reached out for her hand and she took his, returning his squeeze without looking at him and without breaking the melody. She'd declined to follow him to the alter for communion, even just to be blessed, and had waited patiently while he gave his confession.

He'd politely declined an invitation to brunch with a friend and his family and just an hour and a half after they'd arrived he had her more comfortably seated at their table at

the Royal Diner. She'd worked her way through half her egg-white omelet when she'd said, "Thank you."

"For what, Bones?" he asked around a mouthful of hash browns.

"For letting me go with you today. I'm not sure why but it was…cathartic."

"Sometimes we need to repeat history to rid ourselves of it."

She looked up at him in shock. "You don't usually make sweeping profound statements." She smiled and took a sip of iced tea. "Besides, that's not what I meant. It was nice to be there. I'd forgotten what it felt like. I mean," she started when his eyebrows rose, "I'm not saying I was touch by the Holy Spirit today. But it was nice to remember."

"You're welcome anytime," he said quietly and she ducked her head in response.

When he'd challenged her to let go of her analytical nature for a weekend he'd never expected the weekend to turn out like he had. What began as a game had turned into True Confessions and he liked feeling close to her in a way he hadn't been able to before. The worst of it was, he hadn't even realized it was missing.

"So," he said, desperate to break the mood that had descended the moment she'd told him about her mother tying her father's tie, "just seven more hours and you've fulfilled you obligation under the dare. How do you feel so far?"

"Honestly, not quite like I thought I'd feel. This has been a very educational experience."

"And just what have you learned, Dr. Brennan?" he teased.

"That even when I think I've got you figured out, I'm wrong," she replied cryptically.

~*~

"We really don't have to do this today," he said as he held the door to the retirement home open for her.

"Don't you usually visit your grandfather on Sundays if you're not busy with work?"

"Well, yeah, but—"

"A weekend with you, doing the stuff you normally do. You called it 'normal living' if I recall. Wasn't that the deal?"

Yeah, that was the deal. But he wasn't so sure visiting Pops was the best way to spend the better portion of the rest of his forty-eight hours. Especially considering Pops seemed to have a very strong opinion on his relationship, or lack thereof, with Bones. "Okay, yes, that was the deal."

"And besides, your grandfather liked me."

"I'm aware." Booth logged his and Brennan's names at the reception desk and led Bones down a long hallway. When they reached his grandfather's door it was open and the old man was sitting in a recliner watching an infomercial. Booth knocked on the open door, "Hey, Pops, I've brought you some company."

Booth pushed Bones in the door with a smile. "Temperance!" his grandfather exclaimed. "Well, look at you, Doll, pretty as a pony."

Booth grinned when Brennan's cheeks flushed and she accepted a hug. "Hello, Hank."

How Pops could get away with telling her she was 'pretty as a pony' without any sort of retribution is something Booth was sure would remain a mystery. "All right, Pops, unhand the lady," Booth said when Hanks embrace lingered so long Brennan started to shift from foot to foot.

Hank grumbled but released Brennan from his embrace, "Hey, an old man's got to get his kicks somehow."

"Don't think you've got any problem getting your kicks, Pops." Booth pulled a chair up to the small table in the corner and held it for Bones then pulled another one up to the table for himself before grabbing the dominoes from their place in the cabinet underneath the television set. "You owe us a game of dominoes."

By the time they left his grandfather had hugged Bones three times, slung his arm around her a couple of times, had his hand on her knee twice and on her thigh, which earned him a reproachful glance from Booth, once. Hank had gotten away with calling her doll, sweetie, honey, gorgeous, and sweet-thing. Finally Booth just had to shake his head.

"I'd apologize for Pops, today, but somehow I don't think there's any apologizing for him," Booth said with a laugh as they merged onto the Interstate to head home.

"He's a very sweet man," she said with a shrug.

"You only let him get away with that shit because he's over seventy."

She grinned at him, "Maybe."

He couldn't help but grin right back at her.

~*~

They were sitting on his couch nursing beers that evening when he saw the clock on the VCR click over to six-oh-eight, "Well, Bones, you made it. Forty eight hours of not over analyzing everything and living like the rest of us do. What do you think?"

"It was…fun," she said after a long pause.

"Yeah?" he asked with a crooked grin.

"Yeah," she slung back before taking a long sip of her beer. "You'd probably better pack."

He groaned, "Come on, don't you think you'd rather have your forty-eight hours over a weekend, too?"

"Why? I don't need a weekend to take you out of your comfort zone." She shrugged. "Actually, I believe I'll get better results by letting my research time overlap with work."

"And here she goes."

"What?"

"You're sounding like a scientist again."

"I _am_ a scientist," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but all weekend I've got to spend time with _Temperance Brennan_ instead of _Dr. Temperance Brennan, Ph.D._"

"That's redundant, Booth. I'm either 'Dr. Temperance Brenan' or 'Temperance Brennan, Ph.D' but I can't be both."

"You know what I'm saying."

"In this case, I really don't."

"You were all…soft…this weekend. It was nice, Bones."

"Do you really think I was that different the weekend?" she asked quietly.

"No," he said thoughtfully, "I don't think you were _that_ different. I know she's in you, but I know you pretty damn well. But that woman you let everyone see this weekend? _She's_ the woman who's going to connect with people. You know how to do it, and that's what you proved to me this weekend." He sighed, "I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but, I think you hide a little behind your super-scientist persona."

"_I_ don't_ hide_, Booth."

"It's okay, Bones. We all hide a little behind the faces we put on for the world to see. I just don't want you to think you have to hide from me."

She considered him carefully. "You don't have to hide from me either."

He shifted uncomfortably then stood. "I don't."

"Yes, you do. And I'm going to prove it."

He moved to the kitchen to throw his empty bottle away. "You're going to use your forty-eight hours to prove I hide from you? You're only going to prove my theory that you're wrong."

He was halfway down the hall to his bedroom to pack his bag when her voice floated to him. "I really don't think I am. So, Booth, when exactly was the last time you had sex?"

Shit. He was in for it all right.


End file.
